


Of Howlers and Hangovers

by Mohini



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alcohol, Hangover, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-01
Updated: 2015-03-01
Packaged: 2018-03-15 20:41:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3461312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mohini/pseuds/Mohini
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry wasn't sure how Lucius had even managed to send a Howler from Azkaban, but he was certain that it was going to be the last one he sent.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Howlers and Hangovers

**Author's Note:**

> A bit of hurt/comfort indulgence from the depths of my computer. This one's been floating around on the hard drive a long while, but I was in the mood to post something cute so here you go!

“Harry? I need you to come with me for a moment,” Hermione said quietly. Harry was looking over the following day’s charms assignment, bored out of his mind in the common room. He took one look at her and nodded mutely, gathering his things and leaving the room. Hermione cast a silencing charm on them the moment they reached the hallway.

“Thanks,” she told him. “There’s a bit of a situation in the Prefect bathroom and I could use some help.” 

“Situation?” Harry asked, feeling a little stupid at not understanding what she was trying to dance around saying. Hermione rolled her eyes at him.

“Just come with me and you’ll understand, okay?” she asked him. A few minutes later, she stopped at the Prefect bathroom entrance and told the portrait the password. Harry followed her in and screwed up his nose. The bathroom reeked of vomit and alcohol. The source of the problem was currently hunched over a toilet, with a skinny dark haired girl holding his hair back as he retched. 

“Jesus Christ,” Harry muttered under his breath. Hermione glared at him. 

“Draco Malfoy, actually,” she said, her face impassive now. “He’s gone and gotten himself utterly pissed. And the sober-up potion came up before he’d drunk half the phial. So, well, you can see why I came looking for you.”

Harry shook his head in disbelief. Draco could hold his liquor better than anyone he had ever met. He didn’t even want to think about how much the boy had consumed to cause this reaction. Pansy had turned her attention to him. Her charge had stopped vomiting and was apparently resting with his head on his forearms, still over the toilet. 

“What Hermione seems to be missing in her attempt at subtlety here, Potter, is that Draco is wasted. When Draco is wasted, he has no filter. Therefore, he has been begging for you. So even though I think you’re a complete arse for whatever it is you did that means he’s been moping around the common room for a week, he’s miserable, and I won’t deny him what he says he wants.” As if to illustrate her words, Draco whimpered and shuddered with dry heaves, his breathing shallow. Pansy ran her hand over his back, softly speaking words of comfort to him. 

Harry stepped forward, kneeling beside his recently ex-boyfriend. He placed one hand on Draco’s shoulder. Draco looked up at him, his eyes red rimmed and his face ashen. “Harry,” he whispered, his voice ragged from the vomiting. Harry opened his arms to him and Draco slumped into his embrace, curling up like a little kid in his lap.

“What have you done to yourself?” Harry asked him, smoothing his tangled hair away from his face. 

“Vodka, and lots of it,” Pansy supplied helpfully. She was clearly trying to sound irritated, but the expression of relief on her face, seeing Draco curled up in Harry’s arms made the attempt useless. Harry glared at her until she continued. “Lucius sent him a howler. From Azkaban. How he managed it, I don’t know, but let’s just say that daddy dearest is less than pleased with his heir.”

For his part, Draco answered by pulling away from Harry to retch into the toilet some more. “Would one of you two make yourselves useful and bring me a cool flannel and a basin of water?” Harry asked the girls, who were staring at him as he held Draco’s hair back from his face. Pansy scurried to the sinks and brought him a cloth, which he used to wipe the sweat and sick from Draco’s face before rinsing it out and draping it over the back of his neck. Harry gently pulled him off the toilet seat and flushed the contents, letting Draco hide his face against him.

Safe in Harry’s arms, Draco couldn’t stop the tears that he had consumed half a liter of vodka on top of he wasn’t really sure how much mead to stave off. His shoulders shook as hot tears fell quickly, soaking into Harry’s oxford as Draco clung to him. Harry petted his hair, one arm wrapped protectively around Draco’s thin shoulders. “I’ve got you,” he whispered, “Let it go.” Draco continued to cry, in that odd way he had that made no sound. Harry suspected that like himself, tears had been cause for punishment as a child so he had learned to hide them well. 

Harry looked up at Pansy for a moment, meeting her eyes and tipping his chin towards the door. Draco would be mortified if he knew he was crying in front of anyone but Harry. He had told him once, a few months ago, that he had not cried in front of another soul since he was ten. She nodded, and both girls headed out. Draco remained pressed against Harry for a long while as he cried. When he was finally still, Harry wrapped both arms tightly around him in a hug, before ducking his head enough to kiss Draco’s forehead. Draco looked up at him, eyes still bright with tears. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice barely a whisper.

“Shhh, no apologies. Tell me what was in that Howler that made you try to drown yourself in muggle liquor.” 

The reminder of what he had consumed, and how much of it, was more than enough to send his stomach into painful spasms. Harry kept one arm around him, supporting his weight as he vomited harshly into the toilet. As soon as he was finished, Harry washed his face with the flannel, letting Draco melt back against him. “He knows,” Draco told him. Those two simple words were all it took for Draco’s drinking binge to make perfect sense.

He and Draco had decided to call it quits because Draco was terrified that his father would somehow find out that he was not only gay but dating Harry. Gay purebloods were all fine and good, so long as they married, produced an heir, and kept their bedroom habits secret. The problem there was that Draco had spent his entire life being what he was supposed to be and it had nearly killed him during the war. Narcissa knew his orientation, and had assured him that she did not care whom he spent his life with so long as he found happiness. Draco’s fear, though, was that his father would find some way to disinherit him before his execution, and had told Harry as much. Harry had reacted explosively, viewing it as a rejection of him and telling Draco as much. It had been a pretty ugly fight, and none too amicable split.

By the time Harry had managed to process just what Lucius’ Howler might have screamed in the very public Slytherin common room, Draco’s vodka was repeating yet again. Harry rubbed his back and waited for him to collapse back against him. Exhausted, Draco’s eyes drifted closed and he was asleep in moments. Harry held him close, letting him sleep on his shoulder on the floor of the bathroom. Even in sleep, Draco was restless, whimpering and clutching at Harry. When he woke to vomit again, Harry barely got him upright enough to get the mess in the toilet. 

Draco was babbling apologies for being weak, worthless, and stupid in between heaves, and Harry was certain he had never felt quite so helpless in his life. Kingsley was going to be hearing from him in the morning, and he was demanding an explanation for how a convicted prisoner awaiting death had managed to send his already traumatized son a Howler. Lucius had escaped Azkaban during the days of Voldemort’s reign of terror, and Harry was sure that the memory was contributing to Draco’s panicked reaction. 

Draco went very still over the toilet and Harry realized that he had passed out cold. Wiping his pale face once again, he eased the other boy off the seat and back into his arms. Even though he knew Draco couldn’t understand him, he whispered reassurances in his ear, telling him everything was going to be alright, that Harry wasn’t going anywhere and that Draco was safe. 

Morning found them a few hours later, Harry propped against the wall and dozing with Draco asleep on his chest. Draco’s long legs were curled tightly beneath him and his hands were knotted in Harry’s shirt. Harry woke first, shielding his eyes from the harsh sunlight and pulling out his wand to conjure a curtain over the window. Draco was going to have an awful hangover and Harry was determined to do whatever he could to make it easier for him. As if thinking of the sleeping boy had somehow roused him, Draco fussed a moment and opened his eyes, blinking as he focused on his surroundings, particularly the arms around him.

“Oh fuck,” he muttered. “Not a fucking dream.” 

“Definitely not, love,” Harry replied. “I should think that being drunk off your arse in a dream would involve considerably less vomiting.”

“Fuck,” Draco whined, one hand going to his stomach, which was roiling as he woke up more fully. Recognizing that action, Harry swiftly spun his boyfriend to face the toilet before he began to get sick again. Harry privately thought it somewhat remarkable that Draco had vomited all night long and was still able to bring up quite so much in the morning. To Draco he simply offered a steadying arm around him and the cool flannel when he was finished. 

“Please tell me Pans left a hangover potion,” Draco whined, settled against Harry once more. Harry flicked his wand and the little phial came sailing across the room to them. Draco swallowed the contents and closed his eyes tightly, taking shallow breaths and willing himself to keep it down. As he felt the stuff working, he relaxed, opening his eyes and looking at Harry. He noticed that the other boy looked more rumpled than usual, and realized that he must have spent the entire night tending to him.

“Was I as bad as I think I was?” He asked. Harry couldn’t stop himself from snorting a half laugh. 

“Well, Pansy sent Hermione to bring me to you. I lost track of how many times you’d been sick somewhere in the teens. There was also the distinctly pleasant hour in which you told me in a lovely drunken state how much better off you would be if I had let you die in the damned fire your bloody mate set back in the Room of Requirement. So yes, I would say you probably were just as bad as you think. Possibly more so. But just to clear up any misunderstanding, I’m not fucking leaving you again. Lucius knows, he’s not going to disapprove any less if we stay apart, and we’ve both been fucking miserable for a week.” 

Draco felt the tears stinging at his eyes and blinked as fast as he could. Harry watched him, and laid one hand against his cheek, his thumb gently stroking the escaped tears away. “I’ve got you,” he told him softly. Draco nodded, struggling to regain control. Those words, spoken so many times in reassurance and comfort, had a way of grounding Draco. He had grown up with the knowledge that he could depend on no one but himself. Harry had changed that for him from the moment his arms were around him on a broomstick above the Fiendfyre in the Room of Requirement.

Harry had spoken them again a day later, as he wrapped his arms around a screaming Draco when his parents were dragged away from him in the Great Hall by stone faced aurors. Harry had taken him home with him to Grimmauld Place over the loud objections of the Weasley clan. He hadn’t allowed the aurors near him, and had argued for Narcissa’s release and pardon. He had flat refused to allow charges to be brought against Draco at all, testifying before the Wizangamot that if Draco, the same age as Harry himself, was to be tried for crimes committed as a child, that the court should be prepared for Harry to hand himself over as well, to be tried for the usage of Unforgiveable Curses and the murder of Tom Riddle, twice. That had rather effectively stopped any effort to charge Draco with anything, and had resulted in the obliviation of every reporter present that day.

Draco returned to the Manor with Narcissa, and spent the summer locked away in his rooms, trying not to enter any other part of the place that he had once called home. The return to Hogwarts in the fall was both terrifying and welcome. Harry had found him one night, alone in the Astronomy tower, a bottle of firewhiskey already consumed and a second one well on its way. Draco had little memory of what they had talked about, just that at some point, he had laid his head against Harry and those arms had wrapped around him, giving him a peace and comfort he had thought was impossible. Now, still feeling poorly from the previous night’s drinking despite the hangover potion, Draco found himself cocooned in Harry’s arms again. 

“How’re you feeling?” Harry asked him softly, one hand gently untangling his hair. Draco made a noncommittal grunt, not willing to say how he felt either way. Harry understood, though. He knew all too well that there was a certain level of inebriation that even Pansy’s hangover cures wouldn’t completely relieve.

“I take that to mean you need to be put to bed so you can sleep this off, right?” Harry pressed. Draco nodded, his eyes closed against the too bright room that made his head pound. “I’ll call Kreacher. He can apparate us to my room so no one sees us. I doubt you’re up to walking that far.” 

The thought of walking through the noisy castle made Draco want to cry. So did the idea of being apparated, but at least then the only one to see him cower like a baby would be Harry. In moments, Harry’s ancient and very ugly house elf had appeared and they had been abruptly transported to Harry’s room. The dizziness of apparition, which made Draco nauseous in the best of circumstances had his tender stomach in knots. He dropped to his hands and knees despite Harry’s attempt to keep a grip on him and retched hard. Harry quickly drew his wand, vanishing the pool of vomit from the floor and conjuring a bucket, which he placed under Draco’s chin as he pulled the other boy into a sitting position. It took quite a while for his stomach to settle back down, and he was dizzy and feeling a lot like he was going to pass out. The edges of his vision were black, and the only thing he was really very aware of at all was that he was being held securely by Harry. Everything tunneled in, and then he was no longer aware of even that much.

Harry picked Draco up, cradled in his arms after he fainted. He laid the other boy in his bed, placing the bucket on the floor next to him once he had vanished the contents. He cast a couple of strong nausea charms on his boyfriend, hoping that would keep things under control until he had a chance to sleep it off. He felt like kicking himself for forgetting that apparition sober often left Draco struggling to not vomit on arrival. He went to the bathroom to get a cool cloth to lay on Draco’s overwarm forehead, set a cooling charm on it so that it would stay that way, and pulled up the heavy quilts to keep Draco from getting chilled. He drafted a quick note to Kingsley, demanding that Lucius be placed under tighter security and making it clear that further lapses would meet with highly undesirable consequences, likely in the form of Harry himself showing up to Azkaban to ensure the guards understood how important it was that the man have no contact with Draco. Then he slid into the bed beside him, wrapping his arms around the unconscious boy so that there was no chance Draco would wake up alone and frightened. Then Harry closed his own eyes and went to sleep.

Draco woke in the late afternoon. The ghost of his hangover remained, but he no longer felt as though a thousand angry dwarves had set up a drum circle in his head. Likewise, the horrible cramping in his stomach was a much more manageable dull ache. He found himself instinctively pressing backwards against the warm body behind him, and rolled over, coming face to face with a blinking Harry, who had woken when he felt the movement. “Hi love,” Harry whispered, pressing a kiss to his lips. “Feeling better?” he asked. Draco nodded, snuggling into the crook of Harry’s shoulder. “Are you up to talking about what happened?” 

Draco didn’t really want to, but he knew that he was going to need to eventually. He shrugged but began to speak. “Father knows about us. How, I haven’t the first idea. He sent a Howler, and ever so kindly told the entire common room what my position was in the Manor while the Dark Lord was living there. So now the entirety of Slytherin House knows what a worthless little whore I am. I didn’t mean to get so blitzed. I just needed something to take the edge off so I had some of Theo’s mead and Millicent had vodka. She gave it to me, and I drank the bottle before I realized quite how strong it was. I haven’t really been eating much since, well, it’s been a bad week. So it hit me really hard. Pans got me out of the House and took me to the prefect’s bathroom before I got sick, so at least no one else saw that. I remember telling her I needed you, and she was pretty angry about that, but she sent an elf to find Hermione. I started puking while she was off looking for you and I don’t really remember much after you got there, except that I was so relieved to feel you beside me, and I was so scared that you wouldn’t come after what happened,” Draco’s voice broke and he was crying again, this time without the excuse of being drunk. Harry said nothing, just held him close and let him get it out. When he was quiet again, Harry whispered in his ear.

“Of course I came to you. I’m sorry you thought I wouldn’t. I love you, no matter what fucked up fights we get into, I’m not going to stop loving you,” he told him. Draco held on tightly, the tension in his body relaxing with Harry’s voice. 

“You must love me, to put up with an entire night of holding me over a toilet,” he whispered, trying to joke but the pain in his voice was far too evident. Harry rubbed his back in soothing circles, peppering his face with soft kisses.

“Not gonna say it was fun, but if you need someone to hold you while you’re sick, I’m glad it was me,” Harry said, knowing how ridiculously sappy he sounded.

Draco laughed, giving Harry a sad smile. “Me too,” he whispered. “Me too.”


End file.
